অনুরণন

I had been looking for another name for my blog for quite some time. I wasn't entirely happy with its old name 'bas yun hi' (just like that). But 2.5 years earlier when I started this blog, it suited perfectly because the blog was started 'just like that' indeed. For that I should thank my friend Surya (who off late has stopped writing). He inspired me into starting a blog.I too wanted to better utilize my free time at work. So there it was, just meant to be a scribble pad for some nurtured thoughts! Through the years though, I think I have gotten serious about writing. Its rather enjoyable and a wonderful medium to communicate, connect and share. And so as more and more of my posts kept coming and I developed a modest blogging community out here, I felt like this page needs an uplift. A name which offers more meaning as indeed my posts have begun to have more meaning in them. Recently, I came across this Bengali movie called Anuranan. In Bengali it is pronounced as...

निशा का संकोच हूँ मैं और नदी की खिलखिलाहट भी । रवि का तेज हूँ मैं पीपल -छांव की उधारता भी । योद्धा का अनुशासन हूँ मैं और दोराहे का उलझन भी । हाँ, भविष्य का भय हूँ मैं , वैश्या की अरुचि भी हूँ और संत का समर्पण भी । रूबरू हुए मुझसे तुम हर कही, पहचाना किन्तु अब तक नहीं । विश्वरूप दर्शित हुआ मैं , तुझसे इस तरह परिचित हुआ मैं । यूँ तो जीवन के हर रूप में हूँ मैं, पर खुद को पाता तुझमें हूँ मैं । तू पूँछ ले , तुझमें हैं एसा क्या गुण ? नवों रस के समर्थ, हे मानस! तू बना भिन्न !

Once again I sat there, letting it flow by. This time in the mercy of solitude. As though it knew, my pain anew it purged through. Unwet still, it passed me too. Sunkissed it shone burning my soul; setting her free of my bleeding sorrow. Yet it went the way It was to be bound. The sea awaited; there was no way around. Knowing well, the satiric secret it kept By the river Poudre, I sat down and wept. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Credits- The last sentence is duly borrowed from " By the River Piedra, I sat down and wept "- a book by Paulo Coelho. Pic of the Poudre - me

A day short of turning 28, Renuka’s life seemed to be a drag now. For the last three years it was a banal routine she had been following. Smiling at the reception desk of Infinity International, she thought her facial muscles had now begun to ache. Infinity was a well known restaurant in Connaught Place, often-ed by the well to do and pompous delhi-ites. Looking at them only made her sick of people who had had everything in life. Money, fame, friends.. just about everything. It made her wonder why she even had an existence such as hers. This day, Renuka had a small change in her routine. She left work two hours early. This hadn’t happened for any reason in the past year or so. Mr. Rastogi, her supervising manager, had given her permission for the short leave today. She had to collect her reports from the diagnosis centre before it closed at 6pm. It would take her atleast an hour to reach Anandmayi Diagnostic Centre in Mehrauli. She readied herself for the ride on her rickety Kinetic Ho...

दिल्ली की तीखी छोरी, वो अम्रीकन मीठा छोरा; भरी दुनिया के दो अजनबी मिलें न उसके , न इसके यहाँ। इन्टरनेट ने बांदा पुल , हुआ विचारों का फेर बदल; चिट्टी नही तो ई- मेल से ही खुल गया दोस्ती का चैनल। लड़के- लड़की की दोस्ती थी, बदलना ही था प्यार में कल; मिल गए दिल, पर इनको भी था मिलना छोरी बोली- परदेस में हैं मेरी बहना ! मिलकर ही समझा दोनों को, साथ साथ हैं इनको रहना; कुछ इसको , कुछ उसको था बदलना प्रेम रंग में आख़िर दोनों को था रंगना। एक दूजे के मंजिल हैं ये, फिर भी राहें ठानी अपनी अपनी; बांटें खुशिया हर कही , ज़िन्दगी इनको देख मुस्कुरायी। बांदा न दुल्हे ने सेहरा, न दुल्हन ने मांग सजाई; बंद गए हैं फिर भी आज, कह के एक दूजे का बस हो साथ। रहे सदियों तक सलामत इनका प्यार; बस कहनी थी एक और बात.... भूल न जाना, रहा गोरे का मुझ पर प्यार उधार !!!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This poem is for the lovely Su & D. May yours be a blessed union. Pic taken by:me

As i scrolled through the pictures dad sent in a web album faithfully titled "Mummy's Garden" , my eyes glistened up. Each picture meant more than what it intended to. It unearthed emotions which were buried about 8 months ago and made unreachable, to avoid those very tears. Moms. Why are they naturally inclined to taking care of something, all the time? Weird they are. Not that earlier the garden at home wasn't taken care of. But I could see a refreshed interest being taken by mom in these green beings now. I am sure the flowers never looked so good earlier, I know there weren't even so many plants earlier either. I know dad never took photos of these and sent it to anyone earlier. He was never so proud of "mummy's garden" earlier. It seemed like their own little world had taken shape anew. I'm sure mom spends a good amount of time watering the plants, tending to them, adding new ones, weeding out the old ones, re potting , cleaning etc. Just l...

आंसू बन, कभी तो छलक पड़ेगा आर्ज़ू न बन, शय में सिर्फ इंतज़ार रहेगा .. रात बन, कुछ पहरों का हिसाब पड़ेगा याद न बन, उम्र भर का तू मेहमान बनेगा .. बेवफा बन, वफ़ा का भ्रम तो टूटेगा वादा न बन, निभाने का तुझपे क़र्ज़ रहेगा .. ज़िन्दगी में शामिल हैं तो , बंदगी बन अफसाना न बन, फिर प्यार का ज़माना नहीं रहेगा